


Pirate Planet

by vmprsm



Series: LC Destin [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: /screams into the stars, Florrum, Gen, HUX CAN HAVE FRIENDS IF HE WANTS, Weequay, blossoming friendships??, gotta get that swag, its all very strange, thief steals things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8642812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vmprsm/pseuds/vmprsm
Summary: So writing this self indulgent malarkey really makes me feel better, and let's me feel creative even when the kylux fountain is a bit clogged atm. Thanks for reading, hope its a good time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So writing this self indulgent malarkey really makes me feel better, and let's me feel creative even when the kylux fountain is a bit clogged atm. Thanks for reading, hope its a good time.

Destin hurried down the hallway, falling just short of an outright run with all of the restraint she could force into her short legs, following her superior officer as she tried to frantically straighten her uniform. 

 

“Sir-” she dodged out the the way of an approaching trooper patrol pair that Hux had deftly sidestepped without breaking the flow of his stride, “with respect, I don’t believe I’m the officer you’re looking for. I have no training in diplomatic relations, that’s  _ Army _ , and-”

 

They turned a corner and the wide doors  hangar B stood open before them. They needed the larger hangar to launch the trooper shuttle that sat placidly in the middle, like a hive as the bees of technicians buzzed around it doing pre-flight checks. 

 

The General turned on her, and she barely stopped from bumping into his chest. That said, she had no choice but to look up at him, craning her neck quite far.

 

“Lieutenant Commander,” he started, “I am aware of your abilities, and the skills you do and do not possess. I chose you because while this is a diplomatic endeavor, it is also a practical one. If you read the mission specs, you should be abreast of the situation I speak of.”

 

Of course she had. They were going to Florrum, for some negotiations with the Weequay, the details of which she did not know. She had been given the barest overview: cannons. So on some level she did understand, but on the other hand, there couldn’t have been anything she knew that the General didn’t about cannons. Right?

 

“It’s a pirate planet,” she said urgently, tone low to avoid eavesdropping. He had to understand she was the least qualified to be his assistant this time, or ever really. Her summons had come as an utter shock and his intentions were a mystery.

 

He looked at her with an expression of tired pleading. “Get on the ship, Destin. I will explain on the way.”

 

She couldn’t fight a direct order from him. “Yes sir.” She sighed, and trudged past him to the shuttle. 

 

They settled into a small room at the back of the ship, and to her eternal dismay, Hux poured her a cup of tea. Getting his own, he sat down across the table, and held the cup between his gloved fingers. 

 

She couldn’t deny tea. It was her upbringing, she was  _ hardwired _ to want tea. 

 

Looking him over, she waited for him to speak first. His strange bouts of kindness were puzzling. She expected him to be a gentleman, yes, but pouring a cup of tea was beneath him. She tried to reconcile the public figure of the General with this human man she was now seeing. She supposed she had been seeing it all along, in the small humored or stressed looks he gave her during past conversations, and in the strange but amusing quips that infrequently passed his lips, but it seemed with every meeting he peeled away another layer of stoicism. 

 

“Yes, Florrum is a pirate planet,” the way he said it made it seem as if he’d put quotation marks up. “The Weequay pirates have been there for over a hundred years, and have worked both sides of every conflict since the Clone Wars. The  _ say _ they have gotten their hands on a new cannon, designed by the New Republic, and that they are willing to sell, if not the cannon, then the design specifications to us. If this goes well, we may be able to do other business in the future, and secure...their indifference to us. Do you understand why you might be needed?”

 

He sipped his tea, undeterred by the temperature. It was still too hot for her tongue. 

 

“I may. I could look over the cannon and the specs, see if it would be useful on the  _ Finalizer,  _ or another class of ship. See if it works at all. I suppose my training with their ships is helpful.”

 

The General seemed pleased, as his look softened slightly, but still searching. 

 

“I’m...not sure what else.” 

 

He set down his cup, empty. “You are from Coruscant.”

 

“Yes sir.” It wasn’t something she said with pride, but she didn’t shy away from her heritage either. Where you came from did not have to define you, and Destin felt strong in that she had shaped herself, not her environment. 

 

“You have a Core accent, and mannerisms, as much as you try to dull them with our...particular style.” 

 

She knew what he meant. Most officers were from the Outer Rim, from the fleeing and exiled ranks of the fallen Empire. They had an interesting accent that was still evolving, and tinged with the accents and mannerisms of the Outer planets they lived on or travelled through in their lives. Some officers held it like a badge, others copied the accent of the Core. They weren’t all that different, but to a native it was obvious. Hux himself settled somewhere in between. There were rumors that he had never lived on any planet, only ships. So his accent was crisp, but lacked the few newly evolved marks of the true thing.

 

“I do, sometimes. It helps me relate to my staff, and other officers. I believe it is slowly growing on me.”

 

“Very slowly,” he cracked that little smile, but it was quickly wiped away, “you cannot hope to erase almost thirty years of culture in five.”

 

“Certainly not.” Navigating this conversation felt like a minefield. At moments it felt so... _ social _ . She wasn’t sure what level of respect she should be expressing, and her hands clutched her tea.

 

His gaze dropped down to her tightened fingers, resting rigidly against the tabletop. “Your tea will get cold.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

He sighed, another movement so human and familiar it caught her attention. “Destin,” he leaned forward, and she leaned back subconsciously, “the Weequay have a richer history of relations with the Republic than with us. The Republic has changed hands and names, but never has it truly been reborn. We have. We are not the Empire, we are not the Sith, and I do not expect us to be treated as such. Deep down, they will feel this. They will be more relaxed, more acquiescing, speaking to someone who appears Core; Republic. I myself appear close enough, but I regret to admit do not have the depth of knowledge on starcraft architecture and design that you do, especially regarding recent changes in the New Republic.”

 

“Oh.” She replied intelligently.

 

He leaned back again, Skyler put her cup between them as she drank. She wanted to gulp it, to quell the flipping of her stomach, but her breeding forced her to sip. 

 

Someone knocked, just as she looked beneath her eyelashes to see him about to speak again. He closed his mouth, irritated, then said “Enter.”

 

One of the pilots opened the door and stood in the doorway. “We will be dropping out of hyperspace soon, ETA ten.”

 

“Thank you.” Hux replied, then stood. He took her cup gently, mostly empty, and she let him, fingers limp. As he placed them in the small sink, he spoke again. “Leave your cap and canisters here. Don’t hide your accent. You must still look First Order, but slightly off regulation will lull them into a sense of security.” He turned back, taking off his coat with his General’s stripes and draping it over the back of his chair, and set his cap on the table. She did the same, settling her canisters inside the hat’s upturned body. Then she looked up. 

 

“General,” she started, looking surprised. 

 

He put a hand up to his hair and grimaced slightly. “I’ve been forgetting to schedule an appointment, but I suppose now it is to our advantage.”

 

His hair had slipped out from behind his ear, no longer held with whatever hair product he normally used. It brushed near the corner of his eye, the hard side part leaving the shorter hairs on top to fluff up slightly. She didn’t want to admit it, but he looked charming. 

 

“It’s, ah,”

 

“A mess. You are free to say it.” He attempted to smooth it back, but to no avail. 

 

“No,” Skyler said suddenly, feeling strangely self conscious as her bangs did a similar motion, falling almost over her eyes, “it’s, uhm, a good look. I think. Not regulation! But...nice.”

 

She wanted to slap her forehead at the odd look he gave her. Either he never got compliments, or she sounded like a moron. Probably the latter. but she schooled her features and so did he. 

 

“Shall we go see to the Stormtroopers? I have a few words to say before we enter the atmosphere. Stay slightly behind me and to my right, you have no need to say anything.” Brushing his hands down the front of his jacket, he watched her get up and they exited the room.

 

Florrum was nothing to write home about. It was very...tan. Tan sand, tan rocks, tan buildings, tan sky. It was, however, very dusty, and stepping off the ship Skyler knew she would have to send this uniform to the cleaners. She silently thanked the stars she didn’t bring her cap, she didn’t have a replacement.

 

The stormtroopers had been told to split into three sections with their thirty bodies: one set at the ship, surrounding it, one set to march behind the General, at a short distance, and one to patrol the area between the ship and the pirate stronghold. Because that's what it was, large and low to the ground, and teeming with pirates. Many species were represented on Florrum, but they all had one thing in common which was looking dusty, dirty, and distrustful. 

 

She followed the General closely after he gave his orders, a red-pauldroned trooper saluting him as he swept off. They entered through the open double doors, wider than they were tall, and the boots of Stormtroopers echoed in their passage despite the rough, sandy stone of the walls.

 

A man greeted them as they entered a large dining hall. “Welcome! I am Yolan, current leader of the Ohnaka gang and your humble host.” He had classic Weequay features, or as she assumed they were given the files on them, and smiled broadly. 

 

“General Hux of the First Order,” Hux replied smoothly, “pleased to make your acquaintance. We are here for the agreed negotiations.” She noted that his accent was a crisp as ever, and he kept his hands loose at his sides as opposed to behind his back at parade rest. She copied his posture slowly.

 

“Of course! Please, come this way. We would be happy to provide you whatever you may need to make yourselves more comfortable. We are nothing if not hospitable here!” Yolan’s speech was loud, and overly friendly. Destin had known his kind even on Coruscant, merchants and ship salesmen, but also sometimes in the higher echelons, those politicians that simply tried too hard to be sincere. Two-faced to the core. She held her face in careful blankness, but a more rigid hold came over her muscles. 

 

The General followed Yolan without looking back, and so she did the same. They came to a meeting room, of the same design as the rest of the building, but with a large table in the middle and a few tapestries on the walls. The fabric seemed to be a lackluster attempt at appearing higher class, as they didn’t depict anything but generic scenes and were poorly cared for. They sat around the table, Yolan on one end and Hux on the other, and Destin placed herself on his right.

 

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

 

Yolan looked ready to launch into another round of fake welcomes, and the General silenced him with a short “No. Thank you.”

 

The swift refusal seemed to flip a switch in the alien, whose wide smile slowly crumbled off his face. “I see. Let us get directly to business then.”

 

The meeting after that had a somber tone, which made it much easier for Destin to follow along. She was always easily distracted by expressions and emotions, and recognized them as what they were: a tool. A method of communication that could be easily exploited to certain ends and impressions. She supposed that was part of the reason she enjoyed speaking to the General and other deeply military types. Their expressions were subdued, and they said what the wanted without fanfare. You weren’t _ meant _ to parse out their emotions, and likewise they were not used to manipulate you. Hence why his recent softness had been so off-putting.

 

Yolan explained how they had gotten hold on the cannon, likely a highly edited version of true events, and what it appeared to be in terms of specifications. Hux listened patiently and asked pertinent questions. After Yolan seemed to run out of steam, the General asked, “Would you be willing to let my officer appraise the weapon?”

 

Yolan looked uncomfortable. “It is all as I have explained, General, the plans for it are right here-”

 

“Nonetheless,” he cut in again, “we cannot make business until one of my staff has seen to it and approved its worth. You are asking quite a lot in price.”

 

“Fine.” It seemed that Yolan’s fount of hospitality was running dry as he impatiently waved over one of his men. “Jakov here will take you to it. He will let you know if you are getting too handsy with the merchandise.”

 

“Of course. Destin.” 

 

She stood up swiftly, and pushed her chair back under the table. 

 

“This way,” said Jakov, and she followed dutifully, resisting the urge to look behind her as the doors closed.

 

He led her out of the building and to a shipyard, and from there she could hear the sounds of what could only be merchant voices, many and varied.

 

“There’s a market?” 

 

Jakov turned to look at her as he walked. “Yes, today is market day. We’re going this way.”

 

He turned her away from the sounds, and further into the shipyard, the roof made of thick stretched tarps tied onto hooks that stuck out of the sides of the buildings. Shafts of light slipped in between them, further illuminating the ships under their own coverings. She was thankful they were covered, it was certainly bright enough outside and the addition of reflective surfaces was entirely unnecessary. After spending a few years on starships, real sunlight became somewhat abrasive. 

 

They walked all the way to the back, into something of a wide alley created by two buildings, and with a flourish of tarps the cannon was revealed. 

 

Her first thought was  _ beautiful. _ The second was  _ definitely Republic.  _ It was shiny, buffed within an inch of its life, and probably had only seen a couple test fires. It had a shape to it that just screamed Republic. What that shape was wasn’t something she could put into words, but it certainly had it. That would have to go. Without waiting for permission she approached the weapon and began her mental checklist of regular maintenance checks, then moved into a more detailed review.

 

In short, it was a wonderful piece of machinery and certainly worth including in their arsenal...for the right price. It wasn’t too different from their ventral cannons, but it did seem to have a wider blast and probably a shorter cooldown, too. 

 

“What’s this?” She asked, coming upon a set of switches that she didn’t recognize. Jakov placed the muzzle of this rifle atop her fingers as she reached out for them, and she gave him a disapproving look. That was simply rude.

 

He retracted his blaster. “Don’t touch those. That’s for the rapid fire capability.”

 

Destin’s eyes became small saucers. “ _ Rapid fire?” _

 

“We haven’t tested it, we don’t have a proper mount for it to handle the recoil.”

 

She sat back on her haunches, having already admitted to herself that her pants would be a lost cause and putting them in the dirt. “Well, I can’t confirm that it  _ would _ function unless I can get inside. I assume that would be a no?”

 

Jakov nodded solemnly. 

 

“Right. Well!” She got up and brushed off her uniform best she could, and tucked her bangs behind her ear. As she turned to him, the flopped back near her eye. She blew it away slightly, annoyed. “There is one or two more things I’d like to look at, but I’d need my tool, which are on our ship. Shortest path?”

 

It looked as if Jakov was going to lead her, and she waved her hands at him. “You don’t need to come. You’ll get the troopers all up in arms. I’ll only be a moment.”

 

He looked at his single rifle, and then shrugged. “Through the market. Should be around the building on the other side.”

 

“Thank you!” She chirped, and set off. 

 

The market was bustling, and there was so much to look at that it was hard to see anything that all. On her way through she did count at least ten different humanoid species, seven non-humanoid, and more mechanical and electronic odds and ends than she knew what to make of. 

 

Near the edge of the market, the flash of something familiar caught her eye. A face? She paused and turned sharply, but there was nothing sparking further recognition. It had almost looked like...but no, that would be too much of a coincidence. 

 

The troopers greeted her formally as she approached the ship, and she gave the squad leader her code, whispered quietly, to enter the ship. It wouldn’t do to have some strange look-alike or other imposter try to get on the ship. She chuckled to herself as she walked up the ramp. Hux was a little strange in his security measures, but he was sure to have his reasons. 

 

It was an in-and-out affair, multitool tucked securely into her belt, and she refrained from skipping down the ramp. It wasn’t  _ every _ day you got to see a top-of-the-line starship cannon. 

 

As she angled away from the ship to take the shortest path back to said cannon, something caught her eye. She turned, and looked at the shuttle critically. Something seemed...off. She approached slowly, and waved away the Stormtrooper that attempted to follow. Something near the exhaust ports seemed misaligned. Had they flown off the  _ Finalizer _ like that?

 

She slid her hands over the sun-warmed hull, and found that the panel that surrounded the outer side of the exhaust was not flush with the rest. She was able to see the edge of dark cables where it was pulled up slightly. The bolts were in, but poorly. As if it had been rushed. 

 

“Just watch my back!” She snapped at the trooper that had followed her to the back of the ship, and they hurriedly turned and took up a sentinel stance. 

 

It was easy work to use her tool and yank the barely-in bolts back out. The panel was awkwardly shaped for her short stature, but she managed to heft it to the ground without dropping it. Once exposed, the hole was obvious. Several cables had been released from their clips to make a space that led straight to one of the two power transformers, one on either side of the engine. The transformer was missing. 

 

The two mental puzzle pieces clicked together smoothly and she let out a screech that startled the trooper. The face she had only glimpsed resolved in her memory:  _ the thief _ . 

 

She ran, without thought to the dirt she was kicking up or how unladylike it was, back into the market. Dimly behind her she could hear the trooper clacking along, but paid them no attention. Her mind was focused on one thing, find him, and find him fast. What would a thief do with stolen parts when the burgled was still nearby? Sell it, of course, and then she would really be in a tight spot. You could get transformers in a lot of places, there were only so many sizes and voltages, but they would have to buy it from these pirates and other unsavory characters, and Hux would  _ not _ be happy. 

 

Whipping her head back and forth between the stalls, she paced down the aisle like a predator, steady but swift. Of course he wouldn’t have a stand, and he wouldn’t be too far out in the open but just enough…

 

She passed over the face of a Drovian and did a double take. Past him, halfway hidden by a building edge but she could recognize that slimy smile that haunted her. She slid between the stalls, barely fitting with her wide hips turned to the side, and gave a absent “Excuse me,” to the Drovian. 

 

“Ma’am!” 

 

Destin turned back, ready to hiss at the trooper to  _ shut the hell up _ , manners be damned, to find he couldn’t get through the space. She rolled her eyes, and held up her hand in the universal military sign for  _ wait _ . He settled back uncomfortably on the other side of the stall.

 

Would it be too much to hope…? She slowly turned again, to be met with the thief’s sharp eyes and self-satisfied grin. Any hope she held plummeted down through her boots and into the soil. If she had caught him off guard, that would have put her in a position slightly above him in the upcoming conversation. Now, she would be careful to say they were on even footing. 

 

Steeling herself, she marched right up to him, jaw dropping when she saw the transformer in his hands. He wasn’t even  _ trying _ to hide it! If she had had words prepared, they left her in her mounting anger. 

 

“You stole that off my ship,” she hissed.

 

He kept smiling. “It’s  _ merchandise _ , and if you want it you’ll have to buy it.”

 

Her voice was going to raise if she didn’t fight to keep her temper in check. She didn’t fight it. “ _ You stole-” _

 

“Baseless accusation!” He claimed, raising his voice over hers. 

 

She took a deep breath and glanced down. “You...you scratched off the serial number! How! It’s been only a few minutes!”

 

“Cleaning accident. That’s why it’s discounted by five credits.” As he spoke, he casually turning the transformer over in his hands until the damage wasn’t in view. Oh she was gonna kick his ass into the next star system. 

 

“Out of  _ all _ the things you could get your  _ grubby hands on _ ,” she started, very loudly, “it had to be  _ MY SHIP?” _

 

He appeared entirely unruffled. People had started to look in their direction, and when she looked back the trooper was shuffling awkwardly, finger held at the ready near the trigger to their blaster.

 

“You missing onna these? Well, that shuttle won’t fly unless you have the component here that has already been generously discounted. Doubt you’ll find another in the market.”

 

Not thinking, she spat, “I’d rather buy it from the Republic than from you.”

 

He shrugged. “Your ships enforce embargoes on Republic trade in orbit right now. So, you can take this very generous discount or embarrass your boss. The redhead, right? Saw him on the way in. Angry lookin’ type, isn’t he?”

 

She practically growled at him, and clenched her hands. This was exactly what she had been afraid of, coming to a pirate planet. And now it would look bad on her  _ and _ Hux. 

 

“ _ Or _ ,” she seethed, “I can send that trooper there to bring his contingent over and have them very firmly take it from you, as it is  _ not. Yours.” _

 

“Actually, it’s quite clearly my merchandise for sale. I’ve been here all day, ask my buddy there.” He pointed to the Drovian that was now keeping an eye on their exchange, halfway angled between the front of his stall and their little corner. “But either way, the Weequay won’t take kindly to troopers storming around their markets, harassing their innocent economy pushers. When I lose money,  _ they _ lose money, and someone has to pay for it somewhere, see?”

 

Destin moved her hand, ready to give an angry gesture that would bring her trooper's rifle in line with this insufferable ass’ forehead. The transformer, now held in one hand, was shifted to lean against his side as he reached for her arm. She stopped abruptly and fixed him with an ugly glare that said  _ Don’t you dare touch me. _

 

He sighed as if deeply put upon. The gall this man had was mind-boggling. “Listen,” he said, “you’re very cute but you’re very green. Ugly over there,” he pointed behind her and to the right, “and Big Ugly over there,” the finger moved to her left, “have scores to settle with the shiny whites, and they have been very patient so far. So make a purchase, or face a wide variety of consequences.”

 

Glancing over each shoulder in turn, she found that yes, there  _ were _ two aliens, the species of which she was unsure, that were looking between her and the trooper with barely concealed disdain. It was good she knew body language, and that cultural mannerisms mingled so well in places like these, as on one she certainly couldn’t identify where its face was. 

 

She turned back and he was looking at her with eyes narrowed, but as soon as their gazes met he broke into another big fake grin. “Such as missing out on this great discount! Guaranteed compliance with your tech regulations too!”

 

“You’re not even trying to lie anymore,” he grumbled, arms crossing over her chest. The gears of her brain turned rapidly, trying to figure a way out if this horrid situation.

 

“Seriously, you’d be making a mistake not buying from a source you can trust.” She glared again, he smiled. 

 

The words slipped out. Something about his demeanor just loosened her lips and did away with most of her formality. It was like she was in flight school again. “It is amazing how much I hate you.”

 

His salesman mask was firmly in place. “You get free information  _ and _ a limited time discount? I should be the one with a grudge, cutie.”

 

She opened her mouth but there was no retort that wasn’t very rude. She strangled the urge, and forced something else out. “Call me cute again and I’ll shoot you for the hell of it, I don’t care. I doubt merchants in this part of the system even  _ take _ First Order credits.”

 

The transformer was in both hands again and he was turning it over and over in a way that suggested comfort. He thought he’d won, and the thought rankled. But hadn’t he? Destin had no idea what to do other than give him his damn credits. 

 

“Someone does, somewhere.” He looked her up and down, eyes flitting over her edges. “And you aren’t even packing, try another threat.”

 

“I…” She wasn’t. The General had made her leave her personal blaster on the shuttle. They had thirty Stormtroopers, and it was a gesture of goodwill. For the first time since being assigned to the  _ Finalizer _ , she wanted to kick her commanding officer. Who didn’t hold onto their weapon on a  _ pirate planet? _ She pulled herself together. “What if I can’t pay your price? We officers aren’t exactly rolling in credits. There’s a war on.”

 

“Some...thing around here does loans. Pardon the smell. Or you could pawn something. Working blasters are a valued commodity, if your shiny friend wants to offer theirs. I think the same person does both, but that’s a loose definition of the word person. What version is your translator?”

 

Near the end of this very quick chatter she turned on a heel and walked back towards her trooper. If masks could have expressions, theirs would probably be very puzzled, if they way they tilted their head was any indication. “Twenty kay!” He called after her, and she allowed herself to give him the universal hand gesture for  _ fuck you.  _ He laughed as she stormed away, trooper in tow.

 

She made it all the way back to the shipyard before letting loose the angry screech that she had trapped in her throat. Jakov startled slightly, and she pointed at him. “I need to speak to my General, take me back.” He blinked at her. “Please.” She added.

 

When they reentered the room, General Hux was making small talk with Yolan, and looked extremely uncomfortable while the gang leader reclined in his own chair. “Well?” He asked her immediately, and she watched a bit if the tension drop from his shoulders. She suddenly felt very guilty, even though none of what happened was really her fault. 

 

“I need to speak with you privately, sir.” She said, looking him straight in the eyes. It was a feat that not many officers could do.

 

His eyebrow rose incrementally, but moved to stand. “Yolan, might I find a moment to speak with my officer?”

 

Yolan stood quickly, gesturing for Hux to stay seated. “Of course! Please, stay. We will leave, and let Jakov know when you are done, he will be outside the door.”

 

The Weequay made a hasty retreat, and Hux sighed. “If this room is bugged, they all are.” He stated without heat, and gestured to a chair. “What do you have to report?” 

 

“It’s not about the cannon,” she said quickly, too keyed up not to blurt it out, then backpedaled. “I mean, the cannon is brilliant! I need to see the blueprints, but supposedly it had rapid fire which would be-” she cut herself off at Hux’s vaguely bored expression. To the point. Right. “We have a small situation with the shuttle.”

 

“Why were you at the shuttle?”

 

“I needed tools.”

 

“What is wrong with it?”

 

“It won’t fly.” She said, and as his expression darkened she hastened to explain. “There is a part missing, a power transformer, and it is currently in the hands of a familiar smuggler and he is demanding credits for its... _ sale.” _

 

Understanding dawned on Hux’s face after only a moment. “The one who escaped.”

 

She cringed. A reminder of her failing was not one she desired, ever. “Yes sir. He is protected by market thugs, and I don’t believe we want to cause a scene.”

 

“No, we don’t.”

 

“I tried to negotiate. He denies theft, but only in words. He’s asking twenty thousand credits. I’m not sure what to do, sir.”

 

Hux tsk’d angrily. “That’s exorbitant. But we don’t have much choice. Take this to him.” He reached in the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a credit chip. “This can be loaded with credits using the ship’s communications, which I would hope still runs.” She nodded. “Good. Put the exact amount, and when the confirm message comes up, press this combination of keys at the same time.” He tapped three keys at once on his datapad with one hand, and she memorized it. “It should give you a number in response, remember it.”

 

“Is this…” she plucked the chip carefully from his hand, the warmth of their fingers touching for only a moment, “is this a tracer chip?” She’d only seen them on police holoshows. 

 

“One of the best.” He replied smoothly, “Nearly undetectable. If our  _ friend _ ,” he said the word with a sneer that was strangely attractive in its ferocity, “would like to take our credits, I’d very much like to have a talk about...further ventures.”

 

She understood. It was a passive solution for the moment, but would give them the upper hand in true First Order style. She smiled thinly. “Yes, sir. I’ll get right to it. If you could ask Yolan to show us the blueprints?”

 

He nodded. “Yes, though we will have a short time with them. Your preliminary analysis is good, it appears?”

 

“I believe the weapon could be an asset to our defenses on the Star Destroyers.”

 

His look turned a little sly, and she was once again struck by his openness in private conversation. “You do have a tendency towards upgrades on the  _ Finalizer _ .”

 

Trying her best not to blush in embarrassment, she replied, “Of course, sir. She is a beautiful ship and deserves the best.”

 

“I believe so too, but our budget does not always agree.” The look of camaraderie faded, and he was cold again. “Go handle this...issue. Quickly. Yolan is patient but I would like to leave before the next shift starts.” 

 

She left with a quick “Sir.”

 

Loading the credit chip was easy, and she marveled at the small piece of technology. If they really could track him, capture him, she could get her petty revenge and move on with her life. She wasn’t accustomed to being outwitted or beaten; she wasn’t always the quickest pod out of the gate, but she certainly wasn’t stupid. 

 

Destin kept her face carefully arranged into righteous anger as she reapproached him. 

 

“Back so soon! I hope you’re here to make a purchase this time, rather than argue with a defenseless merchant.”

 

She scoffed, and held out the chip. “Take it. It has the exact amount.” It glinted in the light.

 

He whipped a little tool off his belt and stuck in the chip. “Nineteen thousand, nine hundred and ninety five?” He asked, glancing up at her.

 

“Five credit discount.” She reminded him. It was so hard not to laugh.

 

After a moment of looking at her as if she had grown a set of antennae, he laughed. “You’re right, I did say that and I am a man of my word. It’s yours. I’ll even install it for you, for a nominal fee.”

 

She scowled momentarily, and snatched the transformer from his hands. Damn, the thing was  _ dense _ . She hefted it on one hip. “ _ No _ , thank you. I believe I can handle it.”

 

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Happy doing business with you. Unless there’s something else?” His question was followed with a little eyebrow wiggle.

 

“Ugh, no.”

 

The rest of the meeting went smoothly, and although Destin didn’t hear the final price, they ended up walking back to the shuttle with her carrying a bundle of blueprints in her arms. She grinned openly, as only the troopers and Hux would see it, and he seemed fairly pleased himself, if he confident yet loose wall was anything to go by. 

 

As soon as all the troopers were in line in the shuttle, he commanded, “Those tasked with guarding the shuttle, when you report back to your superior you will inform them of your needed enrollment in re-education regarding proper patrol timing in hostile environments.” He didn’t explain, but he didn’t need to. They had all heard the Lieutenant Commander’s screeching. The trooper that presumably had followed her to the market shifted their weight. 

 

“At ease.” He said, and walked between them, Destin hurrying behind. 

  
In the little room, they put their accoutrements of rank back on, and Hux made more tea. He pulled out his datapad and flipped through the screen, inputting a password and then looking up at her through the fringe he had not yet styled back into place. He looked very much like the cat who caught the canary as he turned the pad to face her. There was a starmap of the system, and a little blinking light on the planet Florrum. “And now, we wait.”


End file.
